Running With Scissors
by abhorrent
Summary: AU, NaruSasuNaru : I've learned to accept my life as an orderly schedule of insanity. I like to think I know exactly what will happen, all of the time. Because that's how it's become, and that's how I think it'll stay. But, why do I have to be so wrong?
1. Drunks

**A/N:** Hello, friends. Well, I did baleet my other story with this same title, because I lost focus on it. So, instead of re-writing every _single_ chapter, and then letting my beautiful readers be unable to re-review(?) it didn't do much justice. So, here I am..

Again, this is NaruSasuNaru. Don't hate, man. Gay people are groovy.

Again, there is a lot of drug abuse, and insanity. With the exception of the fact that I am not (hopefully) going to imitate anything. Wish me luck?

**Disclaimer:** If I owned anything that was Naruto, you'd know. That is all.

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

If I were to say that, at least once so far in my young life, I didn't have everything I'd wanted—I'd be a dirty, filthy liar.

My upbringing is that of a wealthy, upper-middle-class type. My parents are well off; and make more than enough with some to spare. But, if I were to be asked how they did so well, I'd have to tell you that I have no idea.

My mother is an incredibly talented artist. Whether it were acrylics or oil-based paints, charcoal or some means of a mixed media; something breath-taking was born. Her mind has expanded throughout the years; stretching the far-ends of the cosmos that but a select few could reach.

Nothing was more chillingly beautiful than the glazed stare of her dilated eyes. One could swear they saw other dimensions in those chocolate pools.

But, enough of her. You will hear more about her later on. Now, I must tell you of father.

My father is a strict man; with an even strict drinking habit. Every weekday, at five in the morning, he wakes up with a nice glass of dry whiskey. Then, he leaves for work at exactly seven-thirty in the morning—though not without rewarding himself with one-to-two more drinks. Then, at eight at night he arrives home drunk, and in the mood to brawl.

It's strange, I know. But, in a way, it seems to balance out. It is, in a way, a structured schedule to the life I have been living thus far. It seems to slowly fade away into some sort of sick mundane. I don't mind much. I develop.

When you're thrown into such a situation, you tend to find love in the strangest of places. In the midst of it all, I see the compassion in my mother's eyes, the approval in my father's tone. And, of course, there was always my elder brother.

He is, in short, a bit of a schizoid. He liked to avoid any and all communication; only coming home for Christmas and Easter. Occasionally, though, he likes to drop by my school and pay visit to me. I like to think he knows which days I do and do not go to school, because then it would require him caring more than he already did. I really do love my brother.

But, I'm finished rambling about my family and all the pointless and typical problems that come with it. I mean, whose parents _don't_ abuse drugs and/or alcohol. Who _doesn't_ have an abusive father and a mother who will sometimes forget your name? And who _hasn't_ had to wipe the blood off of white linoleum and drag their unconscious father to the nearest couch?

It doesn't bother me, because at least I have two parents. There's this one kid that I hear everyone talk about (on the days I go to school), that has none. He's a foster child, at a private school nonetheless. I hear rumors of how he shoots up, and see the disgusted snarls that grace the youthful faces as he walks by.

It makes me happy.

For I get those looks, as well. I have quite the androgynous build. With my long, silky hair that I spend hours working on, to the slim physique that was built after many years of malnourishment; I've never had that total manly-man look.

But, I don't get fucked with often. Because, even though I am a scrawny pretty boy, I can pack a punch. My brother has made sure of this. He's a martial arts prodigy, you know.

So, I get by. Slowly but surely. I go to school, at most, about twice a week. I have plenty of girls coo at me, and many a badass try to pick a fight with me. People murmur and I tend to hear it. It's usually about my parents.

You see, a few years ago we had a bring-your-parent-to-school day. My father was on business in Japan, so I had to bring my mother. I was naïve at the time, so I assumed my mother was perfectly normal; and that she would come to school with eyes that weren't looking down on earth from the clouds.

Oh, how wrong was it.

To shorten it up, my mother came to school doped up and started a fiasco after a kid in my class told her that art was lame and only lazy people do that for a living. She had a conniption and basically tried to strangle the poor girl to death with her belt.

At the time, I believe, she was either on PCP, or meth. So, in all fairness, that was perfectly reasonable.

But, I digress.

Now is the time, not for reminiscing, but for me to tell you what it going on currently.

So, if I may—I shall begin.

* * *

Hello, everyone. I am Sasuke Uchiha. I am fifteen years of age. My mother's name is Mikoto, and my father's, Fugaku. My brother is Itachi, and he currently lives with his boyfriend in New York.

As for my family and me, we live in a nice little place known to all as Amherst, Massachusetts. To many a college student, Amherst is known for its intense colleges (with the "wildest bud," and "wicked sick parties).

But, especially as colleges clear out for summer break, Amherst isn't all weed, hookers and blow. It's actually a beautiful place.

Though, honestly, I don't give a rat's ass.

Currently, I am sitting on some obscure street that I don't even know the name of. I have reason to believe that I have been drinking, because the earth is spinning and I have to hold onto this street pole in order to keep from tumbling.

I have no idea whether or not I was at a party, or if I've finally succeeded in raiding my father's stash.

You remember that orphan I told you about? Yes? Well, his name is Sai. He's a total fucking ass. But, I have reason to believe I have been drinking with him, because his body keeps leaning forward and his eyes are crossing. I just have to laugh.

"You, uh.. You can't hold ya' lick.. You're tra-ashed, man!" That's what I think I just said, as I snort and cradle some Southern Comfort to my chest. His head rolls from his shoulders to my general direction, and he snorts.

"And you're lookin' like a cheap whore—hugging that pole like that."

Shit, so he's not that drunk. I make a noise that is ambiguous to its origins, and make some half-assed drunken excuse as I try to right myself up. But I forget that I'm sitting on a sidewalk and stumble on the two-inch drop from that to the road; falling face first.

I draw out an exaggerated pained noise, before bursting out in laughter. My unintentional drinking partner steals my booze before trying to hoist me up. But, he's not as sober as he believes, and falls on top of me.

"Sai, g'off."

I give him a light punch, but I think it's hard enough to cause damage. He snorts into my ear before rolling off of me and crawling back to his perch. I send him a few choice words before crawling over to the grass.

The cops aren't out tonight, I note as I look around me. My head is moving too fast, though; and my eyes refuse to keep up. And before I know it, I am on my hands and knees puking up bile and booze. Sai looks over with a look of pure abhorrence, and pushes me away from the puke.

"So mean," I believe I say, before the world goes black.

And, I have not one clue as to how long I was out of it; but I do know that there is a body beside me and my brain is trying to bleed though my eyes. And, already, it's a bad day. I've never been hung over, for some reason, but my stomach suddenly gives a lurch and I force myself to swallow down the acidic matter as I cuddle closer to the other body.

..Before I realize that, again, there's a _person_ spooning with me. I can't make out a distinguishable face, my pounding head distorting my vision and with how damn bright the morning sun is, but I assume it's a rapist.

So I punch it in the chest, and then soon after feel hands around my throat.

"I'm going to kill you, Sasuke."

Oh. Hi Sai.

That's what I would say if I wasn't gasping for air. Which I am. I'm also prone to asthma attacks, as well. I hope that my attacker understands this. I'm wheezing, and it's painful.

But, thankfully, he lets me go. And then sits back on the grass, rubbing his face. I stare at him for a while, dumbfounded, until he gives me a blank look.

"Why were you holding me, Sai?" I have to ask; it's obligatory when you wake up in such a compromised position. He rolls his eyes.

"I knew you had no idea what you were asking. You blacked out for a while, and then asked to cuddle. You're very needy when smashed, you know?" If Sai knew how to show emotion, I'd assume this would be the time for the smug look on his face as he tells me my weakness. But no, all I'm graced with is a flat look.

"Well, then. Next time don't bother me when you want to drink away your problems." I cross my arms and turn my head away; like the stubborn, spoiled child I am. He scoffs.

"And what were you doing, drinking in the middle of a park? Admiring the night through drunken eyes? I do not think that you were. Don't be a hypocrite, buddy."

"Fuck off."

"You first, my little princess."

My head hurts. My stomach's about to implode. My body wants to shut off. I'm tired. Exhaustion does not even begin to cover how I feel. It's unbalanced. One must sleep in order to heal.

So I walk away. Avoiding a confrontation, once again. I hear Sai mocking me, with some jeering comment that was meant to annoy me. But, my heart's in my ears. I make it home in complete silence, steer myself into the nearest bathroom, and regurgitate the yellowy-acid that bothers.

After I finish, I decide that some toast can help with the dilemma. Toast and coffee, all my father eats in the morning.

Of course, I find the reason I was drinking in the first place.

My father has my mother in the sleeper-hold, screaming obscenities this way and that. My mother, my poor mother, is barely able to scream back. It's Saturday, and that means my father doesn't leave until two in the afternoon to go gamble race horses.

It is only noon. Two more hours.

My mom's not going to last.

So I butt in; a forbidden act. I'm supposed to shut up and leave the room.

But as I'd already stated: Today's a bad day.

So I snap. At both of them. I don't even care as my once-sober mother begins to sob, and as my father tells me to shut up and stay out of it. How it's none of my damn business. It's my damn business indeed. I am part of this damn family.

So I tell him, and he charges at me. He's probably still drunk from the night before; it happens from time to time. Luckily, even though I am messed up, I am more coordinated than he; and slip away as he hits the counter, and then the floor.

I'm crying. My mother is embracing my right leg, sobbing for joy and calling me her "guardian angel." Well, maybe she's not completely coherent.

I wipe my eyes and shoo my mother off of me. She gets up and throws a roll of paper towels at my father. He's conscious again, and his eyes are full of a deep remorse. Or course, I forgive him.

It's not his fault, after all.

By now, my mother realizes what's happened, and is now batshit insane.

"You're an endangerment to our son, and me! I'm sick of it, Fugaku! You're out of control. You're going to kill us!"

But before he can respond, she is dragging me into the car. I'm so incoherent I can't even form the words to make up the questions racing through my head.

_Where are you taking me? What is going on? What are you going to do to me? What about father? Have you finally lost it?_

_Is it going to be over, now?_

Everything's moving too quickly for me. So, I do the most logical thing.

I go to sleep.

* * *

FGSFDS.

I'll post Chapter two later. It's some crazy hour in the night, I know. Will people review this? Probably not.

And, I don't feel like hearing about how this is too messed up, man. Shit like this happens all the time, guys. I mean, you should review, and maybe give me some suggestions.

Suggestions? Yeah, mang'. (:

Later.


	2. Comfortably Numb

_Just the basic facts: can you show me where it hurts?_

* * *

If it had not been for the distinct odor of the low tide I might still be asleep at the moment. But, my friends, let me assure you all that this is the only tidbit of information that is helping me to piece together the distinct whereabouts of my location. It seems as though my eyes are having some.. technical difficulties.

My mother seems to figure that I am awake, for I now can feel the pressurized sensation of someone poking me in my tricep. So, obviously, I give her my full attention.

"Yes?"

She gives me a bright smile and turned down the dial for the radio. That's weird because I hadn't even heard any music.. "Sweetie, it's very convenient that you chose to wake up now. We're here?"

"Where, mom?" In all honesty I am terrified of the possibilities of my location. For all I know, she's drugged me and we're somewhere driving down the roads of Cuba to fight some communist ass. Of course, I'm probably exaggerating the possibility, there; but never put stuff like that past my mother.

"Old Orchard beach, silly." She grinned at me from her position, looking far younger than any 30-something junkie should. But I don't mind. I'm part of a beautiful family, full of the beautiful people. An elite few of genetically-gifted _homo sapiens_ who have been brought to this planet with the sole purpose of making the ugly people feel inferior.

I'm quite the humble person, no?

I guess that, while I lost myself in that little fuss, that I had forgotten to brace myself for the sudden turn my mother makes (at what I assume to be an eighty-seven degree angle) and brakes suddenly (at 70 mph) in front of a parking spot.

If you can't guess, I'm scared shitless, right now. Actually, I think I peed a little.

"The _fuck_ was that?!" I swore at my mother. She looks rather killer at me, for a moment, before grinning at me and punching me in the arm.

"Stop being a bitch, baby."

I'll just store that moment into the crevices of my mind for a bit.

I roll my eyes (in a totally masculine way, I might add) and all-but scramble out of the car. It is rather humorous that I'm still afraid of my mother's driving after being victim of it all my life. But, I digress..

The beach is beautiful, I realize, crawling up the sand mounds beside my mother. We just stand there for a while, staring and straining our ears for the slightest bit of noise aside from the cawing of the birds and the crashing and foaming of the ocean's waves. The frigid air is quick to numb my body, and I am quick to welcome the feeling. My eyes seem to fall close on their own, and my paling lips form into the most awkward smile of my life.

Shit sucks when you've got chapped lips.

Unconsciously, I'm going to assume, my medula oblongata tells my tongue to lick my lips. Unless that's my cerebral cortex's job. Whichever one's actions, good for them.

We stand there for moments on end, my arms spread wide apart as vertigo kicks in and the falling sensation takes the best of me. My mother, I assume, is doing something similar as well. Time flies by around us and I, for one, am too happy to ignore it. Time is relevant, anyway.

Sooner or later, though, my mother is turning toward me. I can feel it, somehow, in my bones; one eye squints open to gaze into her dark eyes. She is frowning, her brows knitted together in what I can say is quite the troubled look. This causes me to raise a brow, perplexed and such that I am.

"What is it?"

She fiddles with her thumbs, and bites her lip. "Son, I don't know how to say this.."

Oh, really? I would have never guessed! "Just tell me." I smile at her.

"Okay, sweetie. Take a seat in the sand, though, first."

What am I, two? Is she going to tell me that she has some sort of inoperable tumor? Is she _pregnant_? That would be a travesty! "Alright."

We slide down the mounds on our bums, the way you would a slide, and make ourselves comfortable at the foot of these tremendous dunes. I spend a moment staring at her, and she spends a moment gazing at the ocean with a deep look of longing.

"Sweetie, your father and I are filing for a divorce."

..Shocking, is in not? Not really, to me. I've been seeing it for years. The truly shocking thing is, however, that I was right. I've been right this entire time. I'd been optimistic over the idea that we were happy about being a dysfunctional family, but apparently I was wrong.

Though that was not the first thing that ran through my mind- no, actually. Is was this:

Oh, great. Bring on the therapy.

* * *

Kakashi Hatake is a young man with graying hair, mischevious eyes, and a knowing smile. Patients who walk into his office feel as though they don't even have to tell him the situation. He is father to three darling children, and husband to a beautiful wife. Something about him screams "perfection."

Or so the article says.

I believe that the crumpling of this paper has irked Sakura, Dr. Hatake's eldest daughter and Secretary of this _wondrous_ establishment. Her hair is pink and her eyes are basically emerald. As it were, she raises a bubblegum-pink eyebrow at me. I smile back in a saccharine manner.

"Bored over there, champ?" She chuckles out after receiving my expression. Me, for some reason making an ass out of myself, can only nod and shrug my shoulder. Oh, I'm tuff. Right, Ponyboy?

"I guess. What're you doing, princess?"

We've been doing this now for the past several weeks. Every other day since that event last month, my parents have been visiting the good doctor at his office for "relationship counseling." As the two bickered (and chain-smoked) for about a good three hours, I sat in the lobby with Sakura.

She's a pretty cool chick, tells me all about her family; I tell her that her family is insane. Then she quips me with a "at least mine isn't in therapy," and I throw something at her. Then she'll sometimes take me out for ice cream, or something.

She's basically the coolest person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Too bad she's twenty-two, though. Old ho.

"Watching porn," comes the simple, monotonous answer. Though I'm honestly surprised: she's never used that on me, before. I think I look like a confused rabbit, because she giggles and reaches over the counter to pinch my cheeks. Fucking bitch..

"Wanna see it too, sweetie? It's called.." She pauses and peers over to her screen again, "'Blond Slut Takes it Up the Ass from the Monster, Part Two.'"

"That sounds like a lovely program," I mutter with a British accent. Don't ask why, though, it felt appropriate. She pats me on the head and crosses her arms over her non-existent chest because the poor woman has not boobs.

"It is," she gives me a wicked grin. "The woman looks like your mom with a blond wig on."

"Ha, ha." I stand up and stretch my old bones, feeling for the life of my like I'm sixty-four. She stands up as well and straightens up her patched floral skirt. I take it that we're rather bored because we both just take a minute to stare at each other.

"Let's go get a slush."

It is a mutual agreement that we both make, because I swear to god this woman is telepathic and, therefore, my best friend. We leave the office in silence (not before giggling like the immature idiots we are at the screeching of "Penis!" from my mother through the door) and make our way down the street and to the local vendor.

I purchase a lemon-flavored ice, and she purchases cherry. We walk back in total silence, neither of us finding a word to say, until she turns to me with a rather disgusting look. She perplexes me, really..

"What is it? Did he piss in your slush, or something?"

She shakes her head and gives me a slap on the back of my head. That really freaking hurts, you know? I hate that so much. It's quite the pet peeve of mine.

"My Italian Ice suddenly reminds me of menstrual blood."

That is the most disgusting, unappetizing thing I've ever heard. Now I shudder to think of looking at either hers or mine out of fear of my thoughts running amok. Just now I can visualize it: Women wringing out their tampons onto pure, white ice.

How disturbing..

I make a motion to scream at her for putting ridiculous notions in my mind, when I notice from the corner of my eye, my mother's car veering towards us. For some reason, this scares me. Sakura notices it, also; she looks at me with a surprised kind of look. She doesn't know, either.

"Where'd you go!" My mother slams onto the brakes of her car, staring at me with those wild, crazy eyes of hers. That's the look she gets when paranoia kicks in. "Your father just stormed out of the place, and you're dilly-dallying! Get in the car before he _kills_ us!"

"What?" I'm honest-to-truly at a loss for words. I've never seen the woman act this crazy before. Of course she's gone into acid flashbacks and yelled at the toaster before, but this is _sane_ psychosis!

She storms out of the vehicle and grabs me by my collar, dragging me into the backseat and slamming the door in a fluid motion. I meet Sakura's eyes and she just gapes at the scene before her. Much help there..

I cannot even assess the situation before my mother drives away in a fog of burnt rubber.

"Ma, where the fuck are we going?!"

"To Dr. Hatake's of course." Oh, yeah, because that's the most obvious conclusion in the world. How the hell am I supposed to assume this?

"We'll be safe there."

Yeah. Sure.

* * *

**A/N:** Wow. I am totally sorry for the epic amount of suck. But I felt terrible over not updating in months. Please, do not spear me with knives.

The next chapter won't suck. Sauce-kay meets Naruto.. I think!

Review if you'd like.


	3. Safety Dance

_Because I caught up on _Supah Nario Bros _and felt sorry for all of my Naruto readers._

_And because Sasuke in a dance sequence is always pretty awesome._

_(Reminder: I don't keep up with Naruto anymore. So, if anyone wants to fill me in on the get-go, I last saw when Sassifras kills his broski.)_

* * *

To put it easy, Dr. Hatake's house is eccentric. If you look over the looming compost heap filled with molding diapers, or the dusty evergreen couch that has made home for a family of garden gnomes; I guess it could even be called _quaint_.

Oh, what am I saying? I pulled that out of my ass. This house is a disaster.

"Ha-Ha, that's funny, mom!" I nudge her in the shoulder and give her my best smile. She tilts her head, confused. My smile drops.

"What's so funny, darling?" She smiles pleasantly. "This is Dr. Hatake's home. It's an honor."

My jaw has hit the floor. At least metaphorically. "Well, you can go right on inside then." There's no way in hell that I'm stepping foot into anything that looks like it belongs to a certain "transsexual transvestite from Transylvania." Hell to the god-damn no.

My mother narrows her eyes. I squint at her, doubtful. "You are coming inside, _son, _or you will sleep outside tonight."

I whimper, trying to look like a kicked puppy. She only glares harder.

Defeated, and all but ashamed, I drag my sorry carcass to the door. That feeling of dread you get whenever you watch a horror movie, or whenever someone knocks on your door at night is bubbling up inside of me right now. I honestly have to puke. I really can't do this. What if they want to turn me into a circus freak?

_"Come one, come all, a real, living Count Dracula!"_

-You know, 'cause I'm pale and pretty and all that junk.

The door opens to reveal an older-looking woman. Not that I notice her age, anyways, with those honking breasts jumping towards my eyeballs. Holy crap, you could sleep on those puppies!

Miss Bust-a-lot's throat clears, and I look up, sheepishly so. I mean, gods forbid I ogle!

"Who are you?" Curt and to the point, just how I like it.

"Leaving." I grin, flashing her my dazzling smile. She flares her nostrils, like a bull ready to attack. It's terrifying, really.

My mother scoffs. "Sasuke, don't be a wise-ass. I'm Mikoto, I'm here to see Dr. Hatake."

Busty Bull's face suddenly turns kindly. "Oh! Why didn't you just say so." She waves us into the house like precious cargo. "I'm Tsunade, Dr. Hatake's wife!"

"Are you the decorator, too?" I turn to her and get a mouthful of glare. Ouch. And then I hear a hiss, and then I feel pain.

"Holy sweet son of Alabama!" I can't tell you how much I despise the feline creature. Fuck.

Tsunade chortles, her breasts heaving earthquakes. I want to kick her in the thigh. Stupid hag-woman didn't even tell me there was a ferocious beast hiding behind me. Let's see if she ever has a blind date with danger. I'll make her take it. Damn straight.

Please do keep in mind that I am a highly vengeful person. I tend to love to hold grudges, and that passively-aggressively extort my revenge. It's damn well dirty, but it gets me by.

"Well, it's been nice, but-" My mom is missing. Okay..

Tsunade is giving me the stink eye, that evil she-devil smile on her lips. "If you wish to stop talking to yourself, you may go entertain yourself in the living room." And with that she disappears. Not literally, but whatever.

So, okay, living room. Through which door? Door Number 1 or Door Number 2? I search for clues as to which way to go. I decide to follow the plethora of dirty Spaghetti-O bowls and TV dinners. Smart decision, I might add. Right through Door Number One. And the first thing I notice is...

...A Hannukah Menora. Not typical for June, but what the hell? Then comes the Christmas tree. Okay, I guess people of different religious descents can share a common room. But can't they take it down, already?

There's no one here, either, but the boob tube is on. And it's playing what I believe to be _Cannibal Holocaust_. Somewhat disturbing, I guess. Actually, that's just really creepy.

Then I hear a scream. From the Christmas tree. Holy crap.

"Stop right there, scumbag!"

And out from the depths of the murky fir bristles emerges a small child with a helmet on. Oh, I get it. I laugh.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" And it's then that I notice he's holding a gun. A paintball gun, and it seems to be fully loaded. Oh, fun!

"Uh, listen, kid. I don't want any trouble."

"I know who you are! You dirty vampire!" Apparently this kid has been watching far too many horror movie. I blink at him.

"Uh--Ow!" That little fucker shot me in the ankle! What the hell?! "You little _demon!"_

He jabs a dirty thumb to his stained tee-covered chest. Little bastard. "I am no demon! I am Konohamaru, keeper of peace!"

I can practically feel my eyes rolling before they do so. "And I am Sasuke, and I really don't give a damn."

"You're no fun." I jump. That voice came from directly behind me. The voice chuckles and I give the speaker a _manly_ pout.

I turn, all too ready to shoot down the hopes and dreams of another tyke, and am met with the sun. Figuratively, but holy crap. Could this kid be any brighter!? Bright blond hair, neon orange tee-shirt, bright teal eyes, holy mother of mercy. And that _tan_, oh my!

But, in all honesty, he is kind of cute.

"And who are you?" I'm very good with words. Quite the ladies'-or man's-man.

He smiles at me, and his eyes are laughing. "I'm Naruto, and you must be Sasuke."

Suspicious. "And just _how_ do you know who I am?"

He rolls his eyes at me like _I'm _the doofus. Pfeh, At least I have the common sense to _never wear orange_. "Kakashi sent me down to take care of you. So, come on, let me take care of you!" He grabs me by the hand and begins to drag me up the stairs.

This is not my idea of a first date. "You know, people usually buy me _dinner_ before they drag me off to their rooms to have their way with me."

I am given a bright laugh in response. "Cute, and funny! Oh my! Such a sarcastic wit to you!"

I smile in response. "You're not half bad." He smiles back, and turns the knob of the door. And holy crap, Bruce Lee would dies over twice.

Hundreds of Bruce Lee posters scattered everywhere. And, I smile, a fox teddy on the bear. I hear myself cooing. "Teddy!"

Naruto laughs again. "I've had Kyuubi since before I can remember." He sits down and begins to stroke his fox plush. Aw, how cute! Until he throws it at me. Asshole.

"So," Naruto stares blankly at me, and I return the gesture, "have you ever played 'Dirty Dancing'?"

"No, but it sounds stupid."

He grins wickedly at me. "It's a game. I play a song, and you have to dance, interpretively, the best you can. Then, I go. Whoever loses has to dance around the house naked, shouting vulgar and obscene innuendos as you do so. My ex made it up. Best played between many people, but we can do."

"That sounds stupid." He sighs.

"Pussy."

I frown. That wasn't very nice. "Fine! But, I won't enjoy it!" He laughs, and crawls around his bed. Then, suddenly, an 80's beat, and:

"_We can dance if we want to!  
We can leave your friends behind!  
'Cause your friends don't dance,  
And if they don't dance;  
Then they're no friends of mine!"_

Oh my goodness. Naruto peers over the bed, chuckling. "Get to dancing, Sasuke!"

Let's see: run around naked, or dance to a ridiculous song? Well, at least the doors are closed and the shades are drawn.

I leap up and begin to mouth the words to "Safety Dance," clapping my hands and leaping around in pirouets and shaking what my mother had quite possibly given me. I make and "S" with my hands, like I saw in the video, and prance around the room. I'm halfway into my robot routine when I make my way over to Naruto, and lift him up. He laughs, and I link arms with him and begin to spin around with him.

It's then that I notice I'm laughing. And it's then that I notice he's holding a camera. That little asshole. I let him go, and he falls on the bed, laughing.

"You're a jerk!" Apparently, I've lost my cool. He wipes his eyes.

"The reaction was totally worth it. And so was the blackmail!" He holds his sides and reels in laughter, leaving me to brood alone.

* * *

Apparently he's comfortable in his body, because he has no problem prancing around the house naked. The only problem is that it is making _me_ uncomfortable. Especially since he whisked me into his arms and began waltzing with me.

This is completely awkward. And I tell him that. He flashed me a sincere smile.

"Sasuke, baby, you got'a loosen it up! Live a little!" He dips me down and I can feel my cheeks reddening. But, his grins is apparently contagious, because I can feel a smile tugging at my lips.

And it's then that my mother walks in. And then she smiles. "Aw, how sweet."

Dr. Hatake walks in, also, and chuckles. "It seems our boys have bonded." Fuck my life.

"It, it, no!" I shove Naruto away and shake my head so hard it give me a headache. "Naruto, explain!" I glare at him, and he puts his hands up in the air, unabashed that he's nude in front of a woman.

"Listen, Sasuke, you don't have to hide it."

God, strike me down now.

* * *

_:B_

_D'aw. I got Naruto in. And yes, he's eccentric. Get used to it._

_I need friends. And please fill me in on Naruto._

_Oh, and go watch the "Safety Dance" video. It's pretty awesome._

_Double Oh, and review please. :D  
_


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